


The Stories We Tell in the Aftermath

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [49]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Post-breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4322712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas and Isii share a rare quiet moment together in the aftermath of their tumultuous breakup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stories We Tell in the Aftermath

“Isii!”

She heard Solas’s voice, the sudden panicked shout, but turned only in time to catch the full force of the Venatori’s blast squarely in the chest. She was shoved clear off of her feet, falling before she could process what was happening, her body twisting on reflex to catch herself. She hit the edge of the ridge hard, her momentum sending her rolling over the side. She grasped wildly for something to hold onto, getting little more than muddied clumps of grass in her fists as she slammed into the rocks below. She felt the barrier around her buckle, wavering. Even as it held it seemed to do her little good as the world spun, pummeling her until she finally came to a stop. She groaned, trying to move. Everything hurt. Simply breathing hurt, a sharp pain shooting through her side each time she inhaled. _Probably a few cracked ribs on top of everything else._ She blinked through the rain that now pelted her face as she lay on her back, peering back up the ridge. Solas was climbing down, but Varric and Cassandra were out of sight. She could hear the fighting continue without her. They needed him still.

“Go back,” she shouted, straining with the effort. “Take care of those bastards first.” She saw him hesitate. “That’s an order!”

Part of her hated to see him obey the command. Face hardened, he turned and quickly disappeared back over the ridge. She closed her eyes, trying to take shallow breaths to keep her chest from moving. One of her arms was broken. She could tell that even without trying to move it. She slipped her other hand down to the satchel on her belt, feeling around for a health potion. It would at least lessen some of the pain. Instead her fingertips met a slick, oily residue, quickly drawing away as she brushed against shards of glass. _Great._ She crushed her potions in the fall. She was lucky the pouch that contained them was made of hardened leather or else she’d probably have shards of lyrium-coated glass digging into her hip. She let out another groan and laid back, waiting, unable to do anything but listen to the fighting above as the rain rolled down her cheeks, collecting in her ears.

_Gods what I wouldn’t give to be a healer right now._

 She heard a loud blast and a voice cursing loudly in Tevene. Then, silence. Solas reemerged moments later and wasted no time in climbing down as Varric and Cassandra trailed after him. He was summoning even before he lowered himself to his knees, his hand hovering over her body as he reached into her, checking the damage. Normally that alone would have offered relief, but the pain was too severe. “Do you have any health potions left?” She shook her head. His touch was gentle as he cupped his hand to the curve of her ribs but even so it made a cry catch in her throat. “Focus on your breathing,” he said calmly. “Put all else from your mind.”

She closed her eyes and nodded, biting down on her lip. The task was nearly impossible, but she did her best as she felt her bones shifting inside her body, stitching back together through the touch of his hand. “Potions?” he asked simply as the rest of their party drew near.

“Fresh out. Seeker?”

“Regrettably the same. How severe are her injuries?” Isii could hear the concern in her voice. Even with her eyes closed, she knew Cassandra was worried. _I must look as terrible as I feel_.

“I’m not dead,” she groaned. “So that’s something.” Cassandra let out a relieved breath. Had the woman assumed she was unconscious?

“This will require more than I can do in one session,” Solas said, his brow furrowed as he focused on the healing. “Health potions would speed the process. Otherwise, I doubt she will be going anywhere anytime soon.”

“We could carry her back to camp.”

“It’d be faster if one of us takes the shortcut across the ridge,” Varric said. “Too rocky to carry her safely, but whoever goes could grab some potions and high-tail it back here.”

“Both of you go,” Isii said, blinking through the rain once more. “I don’t want anyone travelling by themselves right now. Not with the recent Venatori resurgence.”

“You, uh, sure you’re alright with that?” the dwarf asked.

Isii knew what he was asking. Solas knew it too. She could see it in his face, even as he tried to mask his reaction by keeping his eyes down and focusing on his work. Everyone knew they’d had a falling out. It was common knowledge that leaving the two of them alone together often ended in shouting and tears, sometimes both, always from her. But there was less heat to her anger now. Things between them were still tense and would remain so for the foreseeable future. But she could be an adult about it. Having them leave so he could remain to continue healing her was the logical thing to do.

“The sooner you go, the sooner I’ll be able to drag my ass out of the mud,” she grumbled, closing her eyes once more.

***

The Storm Coast was living up to its reputation.

Isii shuddered as the rains picked up, thunder rolling in the distance. Solas had pulled his hood up, leaning over her in an attempt to shield her face, but there was little he could do. It was heavy enough now that a stream was starting to form along the rocky path above them, pouring down into the basin where she lay. The sky groaned with thunder, its rumbling growing louder and more frequent with each echoing crack.

“We cannot stay here,” Solas shouted over the cascading water, frowning as he released his spell. “We need to take shelter.”

He was right, of course. They had no way of knowing when their companions would return and she was already shivering as a slurry of water and mud seeped into her leathers. “Help me up,” she said, struggling to sit upright. He guided her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist for support but as soon as her weight went back onto her legs she crumpled into a snarling heap. He caught her and she nearly bit into his robes to keep from screaming as pain shot up her lower back, stretching all the way down to her ankles.

“Are you alright?” All she could do was grunt in response. He paused a moment before bending down, scooping his arm beneath her hips and picking her up.

“Solas, you don’t have to-”

“I can manage just fine,” he said, carrying her with more ease than she had anticipated. She thought he would have been exhausted from healing her, not to mention the fighting that preceded it. Still, she made no argument, simply tucking her head down onto his shoulder as he carefully made his way down the muddied path. She could hear the subtlety of each breath, feel the press of his arms around her, smell his skin…

She tried to push all of that from her mind.

The fact that her body felt miserable helped in that regard.

The caves they found were not very large but they would suffice. He was winded by the time he set her down but took no time to rest, stirring up a suspended ball of flame to provide them with a little heat. They were both drenched. Mud clung to him from his thighs down to his feet, splattered along his tunic where her body had pressed to his. She imagined she was probably twice as filthy herself. He peeled off the heavy furs he wore over his clothing, trying his best to shake the droplets of water free before rolling them into a tight bundle. He knelt beside her again, saying nothing as he cupped the back of her head, slipping improvised pillow into place. Admittedly, it helped. She muttered a thank you and he simply nodded, returning his gaze to her body as he began to cast again.

“Do you need to rest?”

“I will be fine,” he said brusquely.

Another long silence fell between them, just as before. He worked and she laid there, her eyes uncertain where they should cast themselves. She watched him, she studied the walls of the cave, she stared at the flickering ball of flame. She tried not to focus on the fact that he was touching her or how his hand pressed to her hip, to her thigh, slowly moving downward to try and restore the use of her legs. His magic moved inside her, slipped under her skin and it reminded her of…

 _No,_ she thought, closing her eyes. _Best not to think about that._

“It’s getting pretty bad out there,” she said, trying to make idle conversation to distract herself. He merely hummed in response. She stared once more at the rain beyond the cave’s entrance which was now coming down in sheets. “I hope Varric and Cassandra aren’t out there looking for us.”

“I can only imagine they’ve been forced to take shelter themselves. I trust the Seeker would know better than to attempt travel in these conditions, even knowing you are in need of aid. I doubt Varric would disagree.”

“I’m surprised the two of them work together as well as they do,” she observed quietly. “When I first met them… I would have assumed they’d be at each other’s throats by now.”

“Thankfully animosity does not always hinder individuals from working together toward a common goal.”

She watched him, her lips pursed. “I suppose we’re an example of that now, aren’t we?”

His eyes lifted and met hers for a moment. There was no heat in her words. No anger. Just a statement of fact. His eyes lowered again and an awkward silence fell between them.

Isii stared up at the rock formations above her. “Do you ever think about the book Varric’s writing about the Inquisition?”

“In what way?”

“I sometimes wonder how accurate it will be… how we’ll all be portrayed.”

“Given the exaggerations that he included in the Champion’s tale, I would not assume that accuracy is his goal. I am fairly certain that Hawke was not in the habit of riding dragons as a means of transport.”

Isii chuckled, smiling softly, her eyes still pointed upward. “I used to assume that whole section about Flemeth was just made up to sell more books. In retrospect… I suppose I wouldn’t put it past Mythal to save the Champion for some higher purpose. It does seem to be in the gods’ nature to mettle in the affairs of mortals.”

He scoffed. There was something strangely bitter in the sound. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

She glanced down as his hands returned to her sides, his magic curling around her lower back. “What do you think he’ll write about you?”

He kept his eyes down, silent for a moment, his lips drawn tightly. “I am not certain he will.”

She frowned, confused. “What makes you think he would leave you out?”

He did not answer her at first, lingering in an uncomfortable silence. “This is your tale, is it not?” he began. “If this book he plans to write about you is anything like the one he crafted for the Champion, it will explore all aspects of your intimate life. The part I have played in that is not…” He stopped himself, frowning as if he could not think of how to phrase what he was trying to say. “Retellings always simplify the truth. They twist it into something that is easier to digest, that requires less thought, less comprehension of nuance. What you and I have… _had_ ,” he corrected softly, “It is anything but simple. It would be easier for him to neglect it altogether or to vilify me, for the sake of drama.” He moved his hands back across her ribs, clinical in his touch. Even as his eyes remained focused on his work, his gaze appeared distant. “It is easier to think me malicious than to assume there is reasoning behind my actions.”

A week ago, she would have argued with him about trying to make himself sound like the victim. He was the one who chose to walk away with no explanation. How could he expect Varric of all people to understand his motivations when he wouldn’t even share them with her?

But no. They’d had that conversation far too many times. It did nothing but leave them both hurt and drained.

“Well, if he did do any of that,” she murmured, “I’d make him rewrite it.”

His eyes shifted, studying her face. “And what would you have him say?”

“The truth,” she said, lowering her gaze. She ran a cautious hand over his own, her fingers brushing his where they rested against her ribs. She felt him stiffen but he did not pull away. “The good and the bad.” She curled her fingers around his, laced them with his own and he released his spell. She smiled sadly, keeping her eyes fixed on their joined hands. “Mostly good,” she added quietly.

A moment passed. Neither moved. Neither spoke. She tightened her grip, glancing up into his face, wishing for what felt like the millionth time that she could know what he was thinking. He looked back at her, masked behind a strange and heavy contemplation, subtle surprise and confusion intermixing with that now-familiar sad look in his eyes. She offered a smile. He returned it before reluctantly pulling his hand from her own. “I need some time to recover before we start again. You should get some rest,” he said. “The storm does not look like it will be dying down anytime soon.”

She nodded and he withdrew. He propped himself up against the stone by the fire, his legs outstretched, his hands folded across his stomach. She watched him as he closed his eyes, slowing his breaths in what she knew was a conscious attempt of his to relax. Even in repose, he appeared tense in a way he never had before. She shifted, trying to ease the stiffness in her back as she stared up at the ceiling of the cave.

Some time passed before she spoke again. When she did, her voice was small. Hushed.

“Solas?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think we’ll actually make a difference in the end?”

She felt his eyes on her as he opened them, staring silently. She kept her gaze up, her brow lowering. “Defeating Corypheus isn’t an easy goal, but it’s a simple one,” she continued. “It’s straightforward. Everyone knows it’s the right thing to do. But afterwards… Do you think we’ll actually make this world any better? Will all our sacrifices be worth it in the aftermath?”

He was silent for a time. She began to wonder if he was going to answer her at all when he murmured. “I would like to think so.”

She angled her head, staring back at him. “Do you think things could be different then?” she whispered hesitantly. “For us?”

His eyes reflected the flames, hard shadows cast across his softening features. His lips parted, paused, until finally settling on a short, whispered answer.

“I hope so.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was prompted to write a positive encounter post-breakup. On a scale of "happy" to "angst", I think I settled somewhere around melancholy.


End file.
